Sad Songs For Dirty Lovers
by lachambre11
Summary: See, the thing is that Victoire is your home. But Lily, wild, relentless and too-young-too-forbidden-for-you Lily, well, she has crawled and sneaked her way into your blood and your thoughts and your heart, and she won't let it go. Victoire/Teddy/Lily.
1. Volcanoes Melt You Down

**Volcanoes Melt You Down**

_"You give me miles and miles of mountains_  
><em>and I'll ask for the sea"<em>

Volcano – Damien Rice

**I own a Fender, a large bed and too many books to count. Anything else isn't mine.**

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The thing is that Victoire, well; she's your home.

For so many years she has played several roles in your life, her name has taken a plentitude of meanings: best friend, girlfriend, lover, partner, and future wife.

She was your satellite, the star you looked for guidance, and she has been, without a fault, always there for you. She was there whenever you cried over your parents, when you finished Hogwarts, when you lost his virginity to someone else that wasn't her.

She was there when you got your first flat, when you quit your first job, when you had had trouble paying your bills. She was there when you had to bury your grandmother and she'd cried with you, for you, and taken it up to herself to make you smile again.

She's such an intricate, vital part of your life that the possibly of not having her in it anymore seems inconceivable, a foreign and scary notion that terrifies you, not just because of the story you two share, not just because you somehow feel like you own her something, but because your love her.

You love her gentle hands, and her easy smile, and the way her hair tumbles across her back. You love her goofy laugh and the confident way she carries herself, the quiet authority in her voice.

You love how she curls up around you while she sleeps, the way she smells, and how she always looks so sunny even in the greyest mornings.

There's a place on your life that no one could ever take but her, and while it isn't fair of you to betray her like you have, you just can't help it.

See, the thing is that Victoire is your home.

But Lily, wild, curious, relentless and too-young-too-forbidden-for-you Lily, well, she has crawled and sneaked her way into your blood and your thoughts and your heart, and she _won't __let i__t __go_.

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You should be ashamed; you should be covered in disgust and regret.

But when she kisses you, you're not, you can't bring yourself to feel anything but _her_, but wanting and aching and she's everywhere, wrapped around you, turning your thoughts foggy, your actions faulty, and you _fallfallcrash_.

There is no decency, no dignity in what you are, in what you are doing.

There is only Lily, only her eyes and her lips and her skin, and you're not afraid anymore, you don't really think about the consequences of this brief, devastating kiss.

You don't feel ashamed, not yet, but you will.

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It's not easy, letting Victoire go.

They were good together, they made sense, and so unlike this impossible, crazed thing you have with Lily. Being with Victoire has always been easy, almost like a second-nature of yours.

You fell for her, and she fell for you, and it was as easy as the two remaining pieces of a puzzle. You were meant to stay that way for the rest of your lives. You and Victoire, you just _fit,_and it was as simple as that.

But now you _have_ to let her go.

You were dishonest, unfaithful and it makes you sick to your stomach, how you ended up being the guy who broke her trust, broke them up and broke her heart.

And even though you hate doing that to her, hates yourself for it, you also know you can't keep on pretending like you don't love someone else as well. Enough is enough, and you can't keep on lying to everyone, including yourself.

You have to tear you and Victoire apart because you're selfish, because you're a masochist and you want the pain - you'll burn your whole life to the ground and live with the shambles of it if it means you can be with Lily, the girl that's too young, and too wild and too complicated to possibly know better than to want you, to choose you.

Lily and Victoire – they both should've known better.

So there you are, willingly putting an end to all the years and the future you were supposed to share with a blond-haired girl with the sweet smile and the gentle hands.

You can see it in her eyes when you say the words ("_I've __kissed __Lily_") that not only did you cheated; you've disappointed her as well.

It physically hurts you, seeing the sadness in her eyes and the defeated way she holds herself just so that she won't cry in front of you; and you don't understand how you can love someone so much, so deeply, and have it so that it's still not enough not to make you love someone else, not want something (someone else) more.

And the fucked up thing is that she should have been enough.

She gave you everything, she has been your home for so many years, and this is what you do, this is what she gets – you packing your bags and walking away.

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You're so grateful for having her, you are.

You're grateful for all those memories, and for everything you taught each other about companionship and desire, and you don't think you have it in you to see her happy with somebody else (can't stand the thought of it), but you're still chasing after things you're not supposed to have and it's not fair to string her along, to bring her down with you.

But while you have made it an art of it, living with denial, you can't lie to her. While you love her, and it's cruel and impossible, you're also in love with Lily.

She deserves better, Victoire.

She deserves someone who will fully be with her, and not someone who can't keep his eyes (and his hands, and his lips) from the red-haired volcano that is her cousin, the one that burns you in such a way that makes it impossible to ignore its pain, to deny the existence of such a force of life.

So you tell her the truth, and you accept the hurt and the blame that comes with it, because you're tearing everything apart, all the things you were supposed to have with Victoire - the house, the children; the growing old together.

You try to tell yourself that you've had your time together, and even though it didn't lasted a lifetime like it was supposed to, there were good times nonetheless.

You try to tell yourself that maybe someday she will see it like that too, that maybe someday she will forgive you (forgive them), but it sounds like a hollow promise, an empty consolation. It sounds like the lie that it is, especially when she's looking at you like that, like she has never seen you before, as if you're the dirt underneath her shoes and she's too disgusted to listen your voice, too disgusted to even look at your face, and you beg, but...

What's the point?

What is the point of making her listen to your apologies, your excuses, when she knows you so well (too well), that no amount of apology can excuse the fact that while you're sorry for the pain you've caused her, you're not sorry for Lily?

Victoire looks at you and she sees the truth in your eyes.

She looks at you and she sees that even while you fit perfectly, flawlessly even, you also need the struggle, the passion that only the freckled-faced girl who's too young, too wild and too complicated was able to awaken in you.

Victoire takes one look at you and simply _knows, _knows that when you're with Lily, well, that's how you know you are alive.

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You leave the home you've built together with suitcases filled with half-packed clothes, tender memories and regret.

You leave, and everyone judges you, and Victoire keeps silent while Lily holds her head high in defiance, and everything explodes right in front of your eyes.

You leave your home and you move into a room at The Leaky Cauldron because it doesn't feel right, getting a flat right away, or moving in with Lily.

Nothing feels right, your skin doesn't feel right under your fingertips, and you have no idea how to pull yourself together, how to even begin to understand.

The fact is that one night, while it was snowing, Lily kissed you and you kissed her back, and nothing was ever the same.

You wonder if you would've changed anything, had been given the chance.

Sometimes you think you wouldn't, but most days?

Most days you have no idea how to even get out of bed.

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**A.N: **A little three-chapters story that has been sitting on my hard drive for a long, long time. Like Teddy, I'm torn between those two ladies - I absolutely adore Teddy and Lily, but there's a soft spot for him and Victoire as well in my canon-loving heart. I've figured that since I'll be posting a Lily-centric one-shot in the next days and I'm turning "Things That Got Lost In The Dark" into a three chapters history as well, I should just get this out of the way first, otherwise I'll just confuse myself.

This story is clearly unbeta-ed, as everyone can tell. But please, if you drop by and read this, let me know if you enjoyed it. Next chapers will be form Victoire and Lily's POV.


	2. So Come Back, I Am Waiting

**So Come Back, I Am Waiting**

"_And __there__'__s __plenty __of __ways __to __claim __his __crimes __tonight,_  
><em>and <em>_there__'__s __plenty __of __things __to __do __on __his __dime._  
><em>And <em>_there__'__s __plenty __of __ways __to __wear __his __hide __tonight,_  
><em>You<em>_'__ve __got __yours, __I__'__ve __got __mine."_

Okkervil River

**I own a Fender, a large bed and too many books to count. Anything else isn't mine.**

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You have known it all along about him and Lily – how could you've not?

To this day you don't understand how or why you put it with it, how you coped with knowledge that you loved him more than he loved you, or with the fact that he was in love with someone else, with your cousin.

Your shameless, thoughtless and eleven-years younger cousin.

You knows what he sees in her, you do.

Lily is... she's beautiful. She's charming, and forceful, and stubborn. But you also know that she's careless, that she breaks things even when she doesn't mean to, and she never stops in a place long enough to pick up the pieces.

But Teddy seems blinded to those facts, blinded enough to throw everything you two had built together (all those laughs, all those plans, all that love) for someone who will never, ever, know him half as much as you do.

And you do – you know all his flaws, all his fears, all his tells. And Lily, well, she doesn't know how to deal with the days he misses his parents so badly that his face pinches and he looks so dejected, so abandoned, that it makes you want to cry.

Lily doesn't know how he got that little scar on his left wrist, or how he sometimes takes his tea with milk when he's thinking of his grandmother.

She doesn't know any of those things, and she never will.

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Some days, you really hate Teddy.

You hate him for doing this to you, for walking out, and for doing it so apologetically that he made it impossible for you to stop loving him, to stop wanting him back.

You hate the way he left little reminders of him at the flat that no longer belongs to the two of you, but is not really yours as well. You hate how, on the first few days after your break-up, you kept on finding his socks on the dirty laundry, or that stupid The Smiths t-shirt of his that you used to sleep in. You hate how hard you cried over the little mementos of the story of Victoire-and-Teddy he had left behind, as if it had meant nothing to him.

And even after you throw everything away (the photographs, the letters, the ring he put on your finger), he still lingers around, and you hate him for that.

He might've left, but his presence refused to leave, and that gives you some kind of stupid, twisted hope that you shouldn't really be allowed to have, not when he was the one doing the breaking on the first place.

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You miss him, sometimes.

(All the time)

So you lie to yourself and pretend you don't.

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It becomes easier, learning to ignore your family.

After the first few weeks, when everything blew up and your life fell into utter and complete chaos, they kept on trying to talk to you, to drop by and check on you. They kept on asking if you needed anything, if you wanted to do something, if there was anything they could to help, and on and on.

But by Merlin, the only thing you wanted was to be left alone.

You could see it in their eyes – the pity, the anger, the shock.

You could see what they were trying to do, and you didn't cared for it, couldn't deal with it. They treated you as if you had no portion of blame, as if you had played no part into this sad affair, as if you had been an ignorant part of the deceiving, when you'd done some deceiving yourself.

See, you had known about him and Lily all along – how could you've not?

You could see the way the girl was always looking at Teddy, as if she was hanging by his every word; and you could also see the way that Teddy tried so hard not to look back. You could tell he was in love with Lily by the way he never touched or looked at her, but you still had denied him this knowledge.

Instead, you happily stood by and let him lie to himself about it, lie to you.

It was easier, pretending not to notice, hoping that it would go away.

But then, then _that __night _happened.

And everything was never the same.

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You agree to see him two months after.

You make it a point to get a haircut, and get all dolled up, as if by making yourself look as beautiful as you had ever looked could erase the fact that what he'd done still hurt you, and that your life wasn't completely miserable.

But if there was ever one thing you were good at it, well, that was pretending.

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He's waiting for you at his usual sit by the windowsill, his hair looking like a complete mess, and you take comfort in the fact that some fundamental things never change.

Teddy will always run his hand through his hair whenever he's feeling nervous. He will always love the smell of coffee, but won't be able to stand the taste of it. He'll never pass down a slice of Grandma Molly's cobblestone pie, and he'll always sit by the windowsill of his favourite restaurant, the one you used to go out to dinner every other week.

You wonder if he has ever taken Lily there.

(You wonder a lot of things).

He smiles shyly when he sees you, and you try not to blush when his eyes widen while he takes in the way you look – you're wearing your hair and your skirt a lot shorter than you used to, and your skin is tanner, glowing – as you sit down across him.

"Hey," you offer lamely, not entirely inviting, but not all together hateful. He seems to take it as a good sign that you have yet to slap him across the face (as if you were ever that kind of girl), and sighs a little bit, relieved.

"Vic." He pauses for a moment, as if he isn't sure how to even begin. You can't fault him, not really. How one does begin a conversation with the fiancée he left for her (much) younger cousin?

"I can't even begin to tell you how happy it makes me that you agreed to come here." He beams at you but you can't stand to look at his smile, not when the sight of it makes you so angry and sad at the time, not when it makes you long so much to be able to reach across the table and hold his hand, like you used to. So you just turn your head and nods at him, keeping still, while your hands itch. "I'm sorry, you know. For hurting you so badly."

"You're not sorry enough," and it sounds like the accusation it is, but you're not apologetic about it. Yes, you might've known it all along how he felt about Lily, but knowing it doesn't make it right, the way they betrayed you.

"It's just that I really don't know how to make you understand, Vic, that I-"

"That you what, Ted?" You interrupt him, partly because there's so much you want to tell you that you never got a chance to, partly because you're afraid of what you might hear. "That you're _sorry_? Well, I can't really believe that. You see, I was the one doing the losing here, while you were the one out there getting... whatever it is that Lily gives you."

"It's not like that, it's really not." He tries to make eye contact but you keep on looking straight ahead, right through him. "I lost too, you know."

"What did you lose, Teddy?" You don't mean to, but your voice rises, and you both know how much you hate when that happens, so you take a deep breath to try and collect yourself. "What you could've possibly lost that was so important? Because, to me, you don't seem all that broken up about it."

"I lost you." And he says this so quietly, with such gravity, that you can't help but stare at him, astonished. Your eyes burn, and your whole body shakes, and he looks torn, his expression a cross between apologetic and defiant.

"Don't," you blurt out, but your voice is thick with tears and desire. Why would he even bother, asking to meet you, and telling you those things, if he has no intention of getting you back? "It was so easy for you to walk away, Ted. Don't do this to me now. You've got no right, and you know that."

"You're right, and I'm sorry," he concedes, but you don't want that, want anything but the readiness he accepts your rebuttal. You just... want. Want him to fight for you. Want him to have never wanted Lily in the first place.

But he did, he does, and you're still the foolish girl who's pining after the guy who done her wrong.

"Stop apologizing," you say, and you meant it. You don't want to hear it anymore. Saying it won't take anything back, and you're suddenly so tired it wears you out. "Because if that's all you wanted to say to me, I've heard it a thousand times, and doesn't make it any better. I still love you. Do you still love me? Did you ever?"

"I did – I do," he responds without a moment's hesitation, and something that cried and scratched inside of you quiets down with this little reassurance. It wasn't always a lie, and sometimes, given the way things turned out, it feels good, being reminded of that. "Always have, Vic."

"Then why?"

You're asking so many things at the same time. Why Lily? Why did he choose her and not you? Why hasn't he come back?

Why loving him with everything you had wasn't enough?

"I used to think I knew," and he sounds so defeated that you pity him for a moment, then hates yourself for it, because if there's one thing he hasn't earned was your pity. "But now I – I just miss you. I don't think I know how to be without you."

Still, he doesn't say he wants to come home, and you know him well enough to realize that while all those things he's saying are true, and you reciprocate, it doesn't necessarily means he knows how to be without Lily as well, nor does it mean that he wants to.

You wonder if you'll be forever waiting for that day to come.

(And if it ever will)

You get up and leave instead, and Teddy knows better than to try and chase after you.

It's comforting, how some fundamental things never change.

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**A.N: **Next one is from Lily, and it will also be the last. You know the drill - leave a review if you enjoyed :)


	3. Tell Them We're Like Magnets

**I Tell Them We're Like Magnets (I Tell Them I Feel No Shame)**

"_I knew it was a crime  
>I did it anyway<br>I tell them we're like magnets,  
>I tell them I feel no shame<br>If I crawl into your blood  
>Can I sleep under your skin?<br>Come on let me in, don't make me wait."_

Jack's Mannequin

**I own a Fender, a large bed and too many books to count. Anything else isn't mine.**

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Teddy moves out of the flat he shared with Victoire, and you honestly have no clue of how to feel about that. On one side, you're relieved – they're no longer sharing a bed, and the jealousy that burned inside of you quietens down.

But you're also saddened for them, and so very scared, because now what?

Where do you go from there?

He's no longer living with her, but he hasn't come running to you as well. There's no longer a ring on her finger, you've heard, and she doesn't respond to the Owls you've sent her way, so this probably means that she knows about the two of you.

He locks himself into a dingy room at The Leaky Cauldron and doesn't answer the door when you knock, even if you do it every day.

The whole family explodes with the news of their break-up, and Hugo looks at you with accusation in his eyes because he _knows_, knows how you feel about Teddy. But you avoid his heavy stare and busy yourself with other pressing matters, like the fact that The Prophet offered you a more permanent work contract as Quidditch photographer, or how to adapt your camera to a need set of Muggle lenses you're just dying to try out.

Because if you don't all those things, if you don't keep busy every second of every day, you'll drive yourself crazy wondering if Teddy loves you, if he still loves Victoire, if or when your family will find out how you pretty much destroyed their relationship with one impulsive kiss that meant the world to you.

You do all those things because if you don't, you might start crying and you'll never stop.

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It happens on a Sunday dinner at The Burrow, three weeks after New Year.

You're curled up with a book in your Granddad's armchair, almost dozing off after eating your weight in food, when you feel him staring at you from across the room.

You raise your eyes and stare back, sighing inwardly when he immediately looks away, running his hair through his now-blackened hair, the blush on his cheeks betraying him. You're suddenly so irritated, so tired of the pretense of it all, that you can't stand it.

You fling your book across the room and marches out into the snow without looking back, the sting of tears burning your hands, your whole body shaking.

It's one thing, him not loving you.

You can deal with that; _have __been _living with that for years, with wanting him so much and having him not giving you a second thought. Being only little-Lily, the good friend and confident, the kid he kissed on the forehead and treated as if you were still nine years-old when you were almost twenty.

But what you couldn't deal with, wouldn't live with, was the way he kept avoiding you, as if you'd contracted some rare and fatal disease, and he just couldn't bear to be around you.

You hated it, hated the way he never dropped by your flat anymore, how you never went out for coffee (you) and tea (him) and just _talked_.

You hated, how he made a point of never looking at you, not when you could notice; but when he thought you were too distracted to realize, he couldn't look away.

You missed him, and this was the sort of behaviour that made you wonder, that gave you hope that you weren't allowed to have, not now and not ever, not when you knew he would never leave Victoire, especially for you.

So you had to walk out of that room, had to walk away from him, because when he looked at you like that, you couldn't _breathe._You just ached and wondered and despaired, because it wasn't fair, always wanting something and never getting it.

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Most of the time, you're glad you took matters into your own hands.

If it were up to him, if you had let him have his way, they would be stuck into a awkward and painful dance of longing and denial that would serve for no other purpose than postponing the inevitable.

Them.

They're inevitable, have been since the moment you first laid eyes on him and just _knew _that he was it for you, the one; and it doesn't really matter if there's eleven years between you or if he was supposed to marry your cousin, you just doesn't care.

Well, you do care about Victoire, and the fact that what you done hurt her. You love your cousin, and you know you've done a terrible thing to her, and that maybe all those tears and drama could've been avoided if Teddy hadn't been so stubborn, so damned _blind_.

But what's done it's done, and there's no point in dwelling on the fact that yes, you're a cheater, and you broke your cousin's heart, but if there's one thing you won't apologize for is for giving in that night, for finally letting go and surrendering to everything that had been building up inside of you and taking his face into your hands, bringing your lips to his.

You're truly sorry about making a mess of things, but you're not sorry about loving him.

This is the thing about being inevitable: you can fight it, and people can judge and condone all they want, and your cousin can make a big deal about how he was hers first, but what they all don't know is that the two of you, Teddy and Lily, well, you're like magnets.

You can't try to pull them apart; you can even succeed for a while, but magnets?

Well, magnets will always find their way back.

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Then there are the days you can't wrap your head around your betrayal.

It was never in your nature, deceit. You were raised to be a truthful, honoured individual, and the fact that you'd succeeded at that until you screwed up that night floors you.

Sometimes, you try to breathe in the enormity of what you did, and it _suffocates _you.

There's no amount of apologies or time that can't undo what's been done to Victoire, to your family, and you know nothing will ever be the same. You know that you won't ever be able to look into your Aunt Fleur's eyes again, and you can't even being to imagine what your cousins or your friends think about you.

Some bonds are strong enough to never be broken, but what you've done crossed so many lines of decency and respect that you honestly have no hope of ever being forgiven.

When one week passes by and no one comes knocking on your door, not even Teddy, you just _know._

You're alone in this.

**X.x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x**

He tells you he loves you one night, when you finally track him down and asks him, point-blank, if there was a reason, anything, that could give you some hope.

So he says he loves you, but there's always a 'but' when it comes to the two of you.

_I__love__you,_are his exact words, _but__I__love__her__too_.

_This __is __what __dying __must __feel __like_, you decide, as you hear him say those words to you with apologetic eyes, his hands reaching out or yours, _this __is __what __paying __for __your __sins __must feel_.

You learn through Rose that he asks Victoire to meet on their special restaurant, and you hold your breath, brace yourself for whatever is meant to come out of it.

You wonder if there is a force that's strong enough to interfere with a magnetic field.

There's a knock on you door, and you know that once you open it, you will find out.

So you get up, brace yourself, and reach for the doorknob.

**X.x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x..x.X.x**

**A.N**: Aha. So, an open ending. Don't hate me. Like Teddy, I simply couldn't choose in this story, so I leave that up to you - who will be? Lily or Victoire?  
>You know the drill - every time you read a story and don't leave a review, the muse of an author dies.<p> 


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